


Let the Good Times Roll

by lyricalsoul



Series: Mycroft's In Love [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Lestrade is a sex machine, M/M, Mycroft gets beads, Rimming, There be sex here, suspect sexual positions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-01
Updated: 2012-03-01
Packaged: 2017-10-31 22:53:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/349245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyricalsoul/pseuds/lyricalsoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Lestrade gets his Fat Tuesday pancakes, Mycroft has more in store for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let the Good Times Roll

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know Fat Tuesday was last week, but bear with me. FYI, there is sex here. I wrote this at work, in a tiny font so my nosy co-worker couldn't see, so there may be typos. My beta is out riding in his new car, so...

“Did I thank you for celebrating Fat Tuesday with me? For the meal, and the trouble you went to?”

Mycroft glances up from his phone, and looks at me with what I call his ‘fond’ look. “You did not. However, seeing you eat hotcakes with such abandon is a reward in itself. And it was no trouble.”

“Says the man with a million resources at his fingertips.” I watch Mycroft working the buttons on his phone with one hand for a moment. A funny thing occurs to me, and I smile.

“What?” he asks, not looking up.

I don’t even bother asking how he knew I was about to say something without looking at me.  A Holmes is a Holmes after all. “It would be a bit funny if you’re just pretending to run the world, and are really playing Angry Birds.”

He gives me that look – the one that lets me know that I’m not nearly as hilarious as I think I am - lips pursed, eyes hard, head tilted, then goes back to typing. “I do not like birds, angry, or otherwise.”

“I’m going to have to start writing this down. So far, you don’t like airplanes, pilots, closed spaces, parades, crowds, a tongue in your ear, and birds.”

“There are many more. I am parsing them out in stages, based on your ability to handle the information.” He frowns at the phone, shrugs slightly, then places it in his breast pocket. “Something more?”

“No…nothing important. I know you probably have to get back to work…” I hope he doesn’t. I really, really want to spend the next four or five hours pressing him into that lush mattress of his. “Being a busy man, and all that.”

“Well, yes, I could most certainly return to the office. Then again, there’s this Fat Tuesday theme we have going. In my attempt to find out more about your…obsession, I read that if a man flashes his… ‘John Thomas’, he gets beads and a blow.”

“John Thomas? Blow? What the hell have you been reading?”

“Oh, a little of this, a little of that.”

This, in Mycroft-speak, could mean he actually read something on the subject, or had a subject matter expert brought to a secret location to explain the true meaning of Mardi Gras.

“An interesting but dangerous concept; however, given the level of debauchery during this event, it may be true. I don’t believe everything I read, so it seems that further research is indicated. So, what I’m going to do is have a quick shower, then get in bed. Hopefully, you will come to bed, and assist me in my quest for the truth.”

“Uh…” My brain seems to have shut down. He’s so damned sexy when he’s analytical. “Yes. I can do that.”

“The Yard’s finest. Ten minutes, Gregory. Any longer, and I’ll not be responsible for my actions. There are beads in that small satin bag by the door, should you need…props. _Laissez les bons temps rouler_.” He flashes a quick smile, then heads for the bedroom.

Let the good times roll. Yes, please.

***

Nine minutes later, I open the bedroom door, and there he is, lounging in the middle of the bed in his dressing gown. And when I say dressing gown, I do not mean a dressing gown that is his, because this… thing is a purple, gold, and green dressing gown, couldn’t possibly be a part of his actual wardrobe, because it’s screaming, and Mycroft doesn’t have clothes that scream anything other than ‘bespoke’. Talk about throwing one’s self into the spirit of something… “You really don’t do anything by halves.”

“You were warned.”

“Yes, I suppose I was.” Not one for letting opportunity slip away, I strip off my shirt, kick off my shoes, shuck off my pants and shorts, and, wearing nothing but plastic purple beads, crawl into bed next to him. “Damn, Mycroft. You’re beautiful.”

“You’re one to talk.” He unbelts the dressing gown, and lets it fall open. “You’ve been flashed.”

I take the purple beads from round my neck, and drag them along his chest. “Your beads…” I trail them down his long legs, then up his inner thigh, coming to rest at the base of his oh so hard cock. I look up at him. “And a blow, yes?”

He swallows hard, and nods. “That is the intel I received.”

“Just making sure.” I swirl the beads around the tip of his cock, taking great pleasure when his hips move up. “I need you to know something before we start.”

He groans, and opens his eyes to look at me. “Gregory… it is very inconvenient to have a conversation at this moment. Can it wait?”

“Well…” One of the things I have learned about him in the past week is that once he gets in this bed, he’s all action. It’s one of the things I really, really like about him. “I can show you as we go. One important thing, though.”

“If there’s anything you do that I don’t like, or am uncomfortable with, I will let you know.”

“With words, Mycroft. Okay?”

 He sighs. “Yes, of course.”

“All right. If you’re ready…?”

At the roll of his eyes, I pounce. I cover his mouth with mine and kiss him hard, pressing him onto his back. Pinning his arms above his head. Biting. Nipping. Licking, sucking. His arms, his neck, his lips. Down his chest, lapping at his nipples, adoring the abandon that happens so quickly, him panting my name over and over. I release his arms and look at him.   

Grey eyes blazing with lust is an understatement. Molten steel comes to mind. Nothing there to stop me, so I take that as a sign to continue.  

I tug him up, strip the dressing gown off his shoulders, then push him back down into the softness of the mattress. "Keep that for next time," I laugh. "Let's move along." 

And move along I do. My hands are everywhere, touching, teasing, tempting. Giving, taking, taking... in a mere ten minutes he's panting, and sweating like a boxer. Pleading with me to stop, to go, to just please… So responsive, so giving, writhing against me, as I show him things I'm sure he didn't think I was capable of.  Or hell, maybe he did, and I didn’t. Either way, I am enjoying each gasp and arch of his hips into mine.

I could grind against him for hours, he feels so good against me. I dip my head,  tasting, stroking, sucking, tormenting until he grabs my hands to still them. “I…god, Gregory… what are you doing to me?”

“Making love to you. Taking you. Showing you what you have. Okay?”

“I…it’s been a while since…” His eyes search mine for a long moment. Whatever he sees there must be all right, because he nods, and lets my hands go. “Continue. But…I’m… I’m so close…”

“I know, so I’m going to help you. I think if you concentrate really hard, you can come at least twice.”

“Perhaps.” He stops, breathes for a few seconds. “The odds are favorable.”

That’s as good as a yes from him. “Fantastic.” I lean in and kiss him again, sweeping my tongue in his mouth. After a bit of that, I pull away, making sure to gently rake his bottom lip between my teeth.  Down I go, continuing the nipping and biting down his chest, tongue licking a line straight down the middle. I nip at the thatch of beautiful dark red hair there, using my lips to mouth through the fine hair. I nuzzle my nose in and inhale. He smells clean, almost like fresh laundry hanging in the sun.  “Mmm…”

“Gregory,” he breathes. “I really can’t…”

“Here, then.” I move down, and use the broad side of my tongue to lick his cock from root to tip. I give his bollocks a good roll, a gentle tug, and suck at the tip of his cock as noisily as I can.

“Oh!” His back arches, his hands grip my hair, and then he comes. All over my neck and chest. Damn. Sweetest thing ever. Except he has my hair in a death drip. I reach up and remove his hands, holding them at his side. “It’s attached.”

“A…polo…gies…”  He takes in a sharp breath and clears his throat. “Well.”

“Shh…” I wipe my neck, and chest, and grin at him. “Good shot. More?”

“What?”

Incoherence is always good. “Stop or go?”

“Gregory.” He’s hoarse, sweaty, and still half aroused.  Body flushed, limp as a cloth, limbs languid. Sensitive to the slightest touch.

“Yes?” 

“Please.”

"Mycroft…” 

He opens his eyes with what appears to be great effort and looks at me questioningly.  

"Are you ready for me?" 

“We can proceed.” 

"Good." My hands move again, sliding down his sides, my tongue following where my hands lead. Thighs. Knees. Calves. Up. Inner thighs. Everywhere. Sucking, licking, stroking. Fingers. Tongue. Stroking. Opening.   

A flick of my tongue and he moans like he's dying.  “Gregory, you … shouldn’t you…”

“Shh…” A deep caress of my middle finger and his hips move upward, and his right leg falls wide. I wait.

“Oh.” He breathes in, then out, and shifts. “Wait.” He rolls away slightly, then back and presses a small bottle in my hand. “Okay.”

“”Yeah.” Good that, that he thought of it, because I would keep licking and stroking until I thought he was ready. Lubricant is always better. I set it aside for later, and go back to the task at hand.  I bend and give his cock a slurpy lick. “You taste like heaven. Really.” My hand follows my mouth, and I increase the suction with each turn of my hand.

He grabs at my head, scratching his fingers through my hair. “Feels so…” His breath blows out in a huff, and his hips move upward. “Good, so good…”

I pull off his cock with a loud smack of my lips,  and snicker at the groan that he can’t hide. I move my lips lower.  I flick my tongue at his opening, then drive it in. Then out, then in, pinning his waist with my hands so that all he can do is take what I’m giving.  I look up to see his head off the pillow, neck muscles tight as a bow string as I give him two fingers along with my tongue. His foot flails out and lands on my shoulder, and his hands are twisting the eiderdown to ruin.

Christ… I’m losing control. He’s so hot, so open, it’s all I can do to not just take what my body is screaming for. I pull my tongue away, and sit back on my crossed feet. I take a deep breath of my own. “You should see yourself, Mycroft. Opening for me. For me… remember that. Just me.”  I duck my head and flick my tongue in him again, smiling as he presses against my mouth.  I let him ride my tongue for a bit, then pull away. “That’s good.”

He moans, and squeezes his eyes shut.

I squeeze out some of the lube (water based in a discreet bottle, good choice) and toss the bottle aside. “Look at me.”

He breathes out, and opens his eyes. There’s something in his face…lust, heat…I don’t know what it is, but it makes me want him more. “Hmm?”   

I slide two fingers in him. “So hot. Tight.  How long?”  

"Gregory, please." He thrusts into my touch, and shifts his legs wider to give me better access.  

"I need you to tell me because I’m hanging on by a thread here, Mycroft. I…” I lean down and press my lips to his inner thigh. “Please tell me.”

“Years. And just once. For about ten seconds.”

Damn. “Really? I’m sorry about that. His loss.”

“There was none of…this. I’m counting on you to make it…better than that.”

“So far, so good, right?”

“Mmm…less talking, Gregory.”

I move over to his legs to lie down beside him, and nudge him so that he’s lying on his side. “Easier this way. Put your leg over top of mine.”

He tenses, relaxes, and puts his thigh on mine.

“Remember to breathe.” I latch my lips onto the base of his neck, and hope to high heaven that I’ve prepared him enough. I don’t think I can be as gentle as I need to be because I’m on fire. Shit. I ease inside him, pause, then inch forward.

“That’s good. Good,” he sighs, and he sounds like he’s about to come right then and there.

“Not yet… patience.” I slide forward, and before I can stop myself, I give him the whole length without a pause.  It wasn’t my intention, but it just… I couldn’t stop. “Sorry. Too fast. All right?”

“Dear god,” he pants. “That’s… oh.”

“Mycroft.”

“Mmm… just… oh. It’s…” He grabs my hand and holds it tightly. “I…can’t…too much.”

Christ. “Sorry, sorry…”  I move back to pull out, but his thigh tightens on mine.

“It’s fine. God, it’s fine…. There’s too much sensation, I can’t focus… Please, Gregory, _do_ something.”

Oh.  Well, hell. I snap my hips against him, giving him five short strokes, then one long, delicious stroke, grinning like a loon when he practically howls with pleasure. “You feel so good, so hot, tight…”  I push his leg up toward his chest and move again, this time faster, harder. God, he's exquisite. His nails are digging into my arm like spikes, but I'm enjoying every bit of it.

“What is it you’re doing to me?” He moves his leg up further, opening up to me even more. He groans as I go in deeper. “Oh…”

That moan goes straight to my cock, and I thrust in hard, trying to get a good rhythm going.  “Hold on.” I tug him against me, and roll so that I’m on my back, and he’s on top of me. “Feet flat on my sides.”

He plants his feet, and lets out a hard breath.

“Sit up.”

“Are you… should I...”

“Just… please. Easy, though.”

He breathes in and out for a long minute, then slowly raises himself to a sitting position. “Add yoga to your list,” he pants.

“It’s the planked dog, or something like that. Just go with it.” I sit up behind him, and help him place his knees so he can straddle me properly. “That’s it.” I lean back against the headboard, easing him back so he can sit comfortably. “Oh, yeah. You’re killing me, Mycroft. I don’t know how long I can be easy about this. Are you all right?”

“Deep.”

“Uh huh.”

“Large. But deliciously so.”

“Mmm…”

“Can you… please move. I’m burning.”

“Mycroft… so sexy like this. I’ve got you.” My hands are at his waist, moving him to the easy rhythm I set. I smooth my hands across his back, around his shoulders, down his thighs, to his chest.

“Touch me…” he pants. “Please.”

I take his cock in hand, slowly jacking him to the movement of his hips. He’s practically dripping, and he’s groaning with every stroke.

It's too much, even for me. I tighten my grip, and use my other hand to tease his rock hard nipples. “Is it good? Tell me…”

“Yesss…” he hisses, and moves on my cock a bit faster, pressing down harder.

He tightens around me, and just like that, I’m out of control… should have a better rein on this, should know better than to let him ride me like this. "Oh, that’s it, that’s it… just like that. Take all of me…”

“Gregory!”

“Easy, easy… Don’t let me hurt you, please… don’t…”

“No… but there’s something… deeper, just a bit…”

I shift slightly, and go in as deep as I can manage.

“God, there…there…” His back bends in an impossible arch, and he comes with a shout, clenching down on my cock like a vise. “Mmmmm….”

I let his cock go, and swipe my hand across the sheet. “Christ.” I push him forward, grasping his hips, and pulling him back on my cock hard, back, back, until I see stars. “Fuck!” And then I'm coming, so damned hard I yell again. "FUCK." My hips keep moving for a minute, then I stop, holding him steady. “Damn.” I rest my forehead on his back for what seems like an hour, and let out the breath I’d been holding. “I’m sorry. I… god, you are so fucking hot, Mycroft. I should have taken it slower.”

“Not made of glass.”

“Yeah, yeah… Sorry, but it’s going to hurt more coming out. Brace yourself.”

“Can’t move, can’t brace. Dead.”

My chest swells with pride. I’ve got him almost incoherent. I ease us onto our sides, and pull out as gently as I can. To his credit, he doesn’t flinch or make a sound. “I can clean us up.”

“Later.” He tugs my arm over his waist, and tangles his long legs with mine. “Too much sensation right now. Give me a minute. Or better, an hour.”

Even though we’re a wreck, I can do that. I kiss his neck, his shoulder, then relax against him. I feel like I’ve been run over by a train. I can’t imagine what he feels like.

“Do I get more beads?” He sounds very relaxed, and slightly amused. “You have ruined me… I should get something from this.”

“You came twice. That’s not enough?”

“More than. Thank you, Gregory. I don’t think I’ve ever felt such a sensory overload. You are a magnificent cocksman.”

“Cocksman? What the hell have you been reading?”

_“Je ne sais trop.”_

“Liar. You damn well do know.”

“Hm.” He yawns. _“Je t’adore.”_

“Yeah?” Not that I didn’t suspect. A busy man like him, a man of habits and routines, breaking them for pancakes and sex…? Had to be something other than the need to get shagged. I smile against his neck, and plant a kiss behind his ear. “I know. Me, too.”

Fin

***

 


End file.
